In a time of hyper-specific genre tags, Secret Hospital may have hit upon the most apt descriptor available for their music — “indie art rant.” Michael Earle, the singer and guitarist of the local three-piece, heads up Secret Hospital like a cerebral Fred Schneider with a post-punk bent, hollering about backwater Napoleons and dirty pictures of Jesus. There’s something grimy and cool about Earle’s delivery that calls to mind Nick Cave circa “Dig, Lazarus, Dig!” and the rest of the band falls into place with just enough loose disaffection. It makes you want to dance, if only there was a dance comprised mostly of sloppy shrugs. But behind Earle’s almost careless sounding yammering are some searing and irreverent sentiments. That Earle and the rest of Secret Hospital make them a good time to listen to is a testament to their skill. Art rants are rarely this fun.